To Prove a Point
by ViventLesPeuples
Summary: When Les Amis get into a discussion about the best method of solving crimes, Courfeyrac has an idea... (Modern AU) xx


"She did it!"

Everybody jumped and turned to glare accusingly at Jehan who was perched on the arm of the sofa, clutching a cup of tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other. His attention was fixed on the police drama they were trying to watch on television, so he took no notice of his friends.

"Does he have to do that?", Joly lent over and whispered in Marius' ear, "It really makes you jump."

"I know," Marius hissed back, trying to collect up the crisps he had spilled and return them to the bowl. "Who does he think did it this time?"

The medical student shrugged. "I have no idea, I wasn't really looking. Whoever it was, I guarantee she didn't do it. Jehan's never right."

Marius laughed and turned his attention back to the television, where a woman was currently running across the screen, screaming dramatically. "Were you talking about her, Jehan?", he asked.

His friend nodded. "She was looking around really shiftily and she's creeping around suspiciously. It has to be her."

"Um, Jehan?", Courfeyrac piped up from where he was crammed into an armchair with Éponine busily munching his way through a huge bowl of popcorn, "you do know this is a flashback, right? That's the victim. She's creeping around because she heard noises from downstairs and thinks someone has broken into her house. She's about to get murdered."

From his seat lounging on the floor Bahorel burst out laughing and Feuilly next to him snorted with amusement. "Seriously, Jehan?", the law student sniggered, "your predictions get worse every time."

With as much dignity as he could muster, Jehan ignored the pair of them and turned back to the TV. His prime suspect was currently being zipped into a body bag.

"You may still be right," Bahorel added gleefully, "I know what happened, she tried to fake her own murder but it all went wrong and..."

"Can we maybe just watch the programme?", Enjolras interrupted grumpily, "I'm sure they thought to add the part about who did it into the end of episode. Just wait and see."

Bossuet grinned slightly but apart from that his words had no effect whatsoever.

"So who do you think did it then?", Jehan demanded of the room in general, giving up on his attempt to pretend he hadn't heard Bahorel.

"Logically...", Combeferre began. He was curled in the window seat with a mug of coffee reading, only half paying attention to what was happening on the screen and had very briefly glanced up to see what was going on.

Before he could finish, Grantaire interrupted loudly: "Logic!", he scoffed aiming a contemptuous look at the teaching student, "logic! That's all you ever think about. What good is logic going to do? I'll tell you: none whatsoever. Those flat-footed, slow-witted policemen in the programme try and think logically and it never works, they're going round in circles. What you need is imagination. You have to be able to _see _how the crime was committed, not work it out _logically_. By the time you've done that the murderer will be long gone. If you even succeed. Who says there is any helpful evidence left lying around? If there isn't, you'll have nothing to base your _logical _conclusions on and you'll never solve the case. On TV they always do because the writers can make up as much evidence as they like and as many clues to point their pathetic detectives in the right direction. And even then it's usually solved by coincidence. A chance remark or a sudden brainwave, never by going through the clues logically. Just look at real life. There are hundreds of murders that are never solved because no one has enough imagination to solve them! If the police..."

In an attempt to stop the flow of words pouring out of Grantaire's mouth Cosette laughingly tried to use her scarf as a makeshift gag. "Does it matter?"

From the floor Feuilly frowned. "So what do you suggest? The police imagine what could have happened? What about evidence? When asked how they know the person they've arrested is guilty they can't really just say: 'we imagined what must have happened and we're pretty sure it was him'. Anyway, how do you prove beyond reasonable doubt that the person is guilty if you have no evidence?"

Jehan waved his hand breezily and nearly toppled off the arm. "Evidence is overrated."

This rather bold statement gained him Combeferre's full attention. "What do you mean, evidence is overrated? Without evidence..."

"You could find that later."

"But if you have already decided on the outcome and are looking for evidence to prove it, you're no longer impartial."

Enjolras let out an exasperated sigh. "Can we _please _just watch the programme? It's nearly finished anyway."

"Is it really about imagination, though?", Bossuet asked, completely ignoring Enjolras' protests. "Surely we're talking about logic and intuition. Imagination is the wrong word."

"Imagination, intuition, who cares," Grantaire waved away the interruption, "it comes down to the same thing."

Feuilly shook his head and frowned up at the classical civilisation student. "Imagination and intuition are not the same thing."

The older student just scoffed at him, not deeming to even reply.

"Feuilly's right," Combeferre added, somewhat irritated, "if you look up the definition of imagination, it is the ability to form new images and sensations that are not perceived through senses such as sight, hearing etcetera. Intuition is the ability to understand something instinctively, without the need for conscious reasoning. So really it's not the same thing at all."

A handful of peanuts hit him square in the face accompanied by a low growl from Bahorel. "Show-off," the law student grumbled under his breath, "he didn't even look that up." Feuilly laughed and Enjolras shot the pair of them a dangerous look, as if daring them to continue.

With a loud clunk, Jehan deposited his mug of tea on the nearest surface, got up and strode over to the TV, turning the volume down to make himself heard. "We were discussing the programme. If I'm so bad at this who do you think did it?", he repeated.

By this point however everyone's attention had wandered and they were too caught up in their discussion to pay him any attention. Joly had raised his head from Marius' shoulder where he had been on the verge of dozing off and was shooting exasperated looks at Jehan and Grantaire. "Intuition is the wrong method to use in police work anyway," he stated, "it's like medicine. Better to rely on the facts otherwise you can find yourself letting aspects of your own life cloud your judgement. For example, if you have a serious disease and someone comes to you with similar symptoms, naturally you..."

Looking practically alarmed, Bossuet interrupted before Joly could delve too deeply into the subject of serious illness. "You know I always agree with you, Joly, but on this occasion I think you're wrong." Courfeyrac let out a mock-shocked gasp and earned himself an elbow in the ribs from Musichetta, who was sat on the arm of his chair. "I think intuition is often right. Sometimes there isn't enough actual evidence to go on and a policeman has to use his experience and knowledge of criminals to..."

"Is that intuition according to Combeferre's definition?", Éponine asked. She was finding the conversation rather tiring but had no desire to look stupid or slow in front of Marius, so had decided she had better try and at least participate once. It was the best question she had been able to come up with on the spur of the moment.

It was Feuilly who answered her question. "I think so. The policeman is basing his theory on past experience, but doing so instinctively not reading up on past cases for example. There is no conscious reasoning involved."

With a shrug Éponine helped herself to a handful of Courfeyrac's popcorn. "I agree with Joly anyway, you should only consider the facts when looking at a crime. Surely each case is individual and can't be compared to other incidents unless it's the same criminal, so..."

"I know that," Bossuet interrupted, "and I'm not saying you should base your whole theory on past experiences, just that it's a helpful factor."

Sighing Enjolras lent forwards and turned the television back up again. On the screen the detective was pacing up and down in front of a group possible suspects, going through their various motives for killing the woman Jehan had suspected. "You're missing the end of the episode," he informed the room at large, but none of them seemed to mind very much.

"It's not a helpful factor if it means you're not impartial," Feuilly commented quietly, "for example a child was murdered by their mother and everybody was very distressed about it, they like doing that in these police dramas. Then a year later another completely unrelated child is killed. Immediately the mother would be the prime suspect, because the detectives remember the terrible incident the year before. That's hardly fair, is it?"

Joly shook his head indignantly. "That's exactly what I was trying to say. You would be letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement."

"Just because you suspect the mother doesn't mean you rush out and arrest her," Jehan pointed out, going back to perch on the arm of the sofa and taking a sip of his now cold tea, "You collect evidence and if the evidence doesn't point to her then you come up with a new theory."

Combeferre, who had gone back to quietly reading his book, glanced up again. "That just proves that intuition is not a reliable method of solving crimes."

"Is this really that important?," Cosette asked hastily as Jehan and Grantaire both opened their mouths to respond, "I mean, it's just a TV show."

"A TV show we're missing," Enjolras muttered crossly to himself under his breath.

Marius glanced sympathetically at his friend. Enjolras was trying to peer round Feuilly who had got up to get a better view of Jehan and was accidentally stood right in front of the television. It didn't really seem to be working and the his brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to make out the dialogue and piece together what was going on from the tiny sliver of screen he could see and the odd word he managed to make out.

"Say a child has been kidnapped and the detectives go and interview it's family. The mum's reaction doesn't seem quite right for some reason. Nothing concrete, nothing you could call evidence, she just doesn't seem as upset as she should be or is nervous not worried. The detectives feel there is something wrong or suspicious about her but there is no actual, tangible _reason _for it. There is no real evidence pointing towards the kidnapper but the longer the child is held prisoner for, the slimmer it's chances of survival. They think, based on intuition, that the mother knows something or has something to do with it. Are you telling me they should ignore that because they have no logical reason to blame the mother? When a child's life is at stake?", Grantaire was sat bolt upright in his chair glaring at Combeferre who seemed to be considering and slowly closed his book.

"And if they're wrong? If they spend all their time interviewing the mother based on some hunch and she has nothing to do with it? Then they would have wasted valuable time and possibly cost the child it's life."

Éponine added: "Instead of questioning the mother they should be looking for evidence. Just because they haven't found any yet, doesn't mean there isn't any to find." Her hand was halfway between her mouth and the bowl but she had lost interest in stealing Courfeyrac's popcorn. He was taking the opportunity to try and finish it off before she remembered about it.

"Don't be ridiculous," Bossuet cried and leapt up off the sofa, knocking the crisps out of Marius' hand again, "they wouldn't spend all their time questioning the mother. There _are_ multiple people working on the same case. They could split their efforts. Anyway, you get evidence and stuff by finding it, like cigarette butts and stuff, or by questioning people. So if you suspect the mother you might as well start by questioning her. You have to do it anyway so what harm does it do to pick her first?" He took a step forwards and a loud crunch sounded round the room. Rather sheepishly, Bossuet looked down at the now crushed crisps on the carpet. "Sorry, Marius."

Marius waved it off. "It's fine, I'd finished anyway."

"What's wrong with them? They're still perfectly edible." Bahorel rolled over onto his stomach and began picking the bits of crisp off the carpet and eating them.

Musichetta let out a wail of: "Ew! They've been on the floor!" and Joly smacked the law student on the head. "That is so unhygienic. Bossuet trod on those."

"Hey, mind the hair!", Bahorel aimed a friendly punch at Joly, "anyway, weren't you all busy arguing? Don't let me stop you."

Disapprovingly, Combeferre shook his head. "We weren't arguing, we were having a civilised discussion."

"Nothing is civilised if Grantaire is joining in," Feuilly pointed out dryly.

At that point the conversation was interrupted by the dramatic music of the end credits of the programme they had all forgotten about. With a sigh Enjolras got up and stretched. "Great, now I missed what happened. Thanks guys." Aiming a disapproving glare in his friends' general direction he disappeared into the kitchen and they could hear him clattering around, probably making something to eat.

"I bet I was right about who did it," muttered Jehan, making Courfeyrac laugh.

"The woman you thought was guilty was the victim."

Jehan shook his head, "No, no, not her. If it wasn't her then I thought it was that guy with the floppy hair and the dodgy moustache."

Cosette groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Not this again. Can't we just all agree to differ on how you solve crimes? It's not like any of us actually have to, is it?" She stood up and smoothed down her bright red sweater dress. "I'm going to go and help Enjolras, so please think of something un-crime-related to talk about by the time I get back," and with that she left the room.

"I," Courfeyrac announced dramatically as soon as Cosette was out of earshot, "have an idea!"

"With a due sense of foreboding and dread...", Feuilly muttered under his breath. Out loud he said: "What is it?"

Only Bahorel managed to catch the first part and burst out laughing, elbowing the carpenter in the ribs. "Nice Blackadder quote. Very appropriate."

Courfeyrac ignored them both. "Grantaire, Jehan and Bossuet, you all believe crimes can be solved by intuition, correct? And Éponine, Joly, Combeferre and Feuilly, you think crimes must be solved logically? Well then, I propose we scientifically discover which method is best. Two teams, Team Logic and Team Intuition, must each solve a crime. Whichever team manages to arrest the culprit is the winner and has proved their method to be the best! Horray!" He tossed his last handful of popcorn in the air. "Any questions?" 

"Team Logic and Team Intuition," Musichetta giggled, "sounds like something off 'The Apprentice'."

"I think I've noticed a slight flaw in _your_ logic," Marius threw in, "this isn't an Agatha Christie novel, amateurs can't just go around solving crimes. The police might get a bit annoyed if we tried to do that."

"Not an actual crime, Marius, you idiot. We will have our very own murder", Courfeyrac informed the room at large. "A fake one of course," he added hastily at the look on Combeferre's face, "a bit like that party game people play but over a longer period of time. Basically, some time in the next two days, somebody is 'murdered'. We all carry on doing normal stuff and only the murderer knows when the murder was committed, like an actual crime. So any evidence or lack thereof is real and Grantaire can't accuse us of making it up to help the detectives. The two teams get three days to try and solve the case. The fastest team to arrest the right person wins." He paused to draw breath. "So what do you think?"

Grantaire shrugged and stretched out in his chair. "Sounds like fun. So who's on which team?"

"Team Logic: Combeferre and Feuilly, Team Intuition: Grantaire and Jehan," Courfeyrac announced smugly.

The carpenter shook his head. "Count me out. I'll play but I'm not being one of your detectives. Got too much on at work and can't take any time off for a game." He had used the opportunity of Enjolras having left the room to light a cigarette and was smoking happily. Combeferre shot him a disapproving glance but decided not to say anything to save him from Joly's lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Courfeyrac didn't seem at all put out. "Ok, fine. Combeferre and Joly, then."

Jehan got up off the arm of the sofa and helped himself to the seat Enjolras had vacated. "So how do you choose who kills who?"

"Have you never played the party game before? You write it on bits of paper and pull them out a hat. Whoever gets the bit that says 'murderer' has to pick somebody to 'kill'," Courfeyrac explained.

"Sounds fun, but what does the winning team get?", Bossuet wanted to know, "We have to have a prize."

They all thought for a moment. "How about the losing team buys everyone else a meal?", Musichetta suggested.

"And the winning team gets the satisfaction of knowing they were right," Grantaire added.

"So it's settled then." Courfeyrac jumped enthusiastically to his feet, almost knocking Éponine out of the chair they were sharing, "one of us is going to get murdered!"

It was precisely at this moment that Cosette and Enjolras re-entered the room carrying trays of home-made pizza and chips and cans of beer. "What?!", Cosette exclaimed sounding shocked, "what do you mean one of us is going to get murdered?" Behind her Enjolras looked slightly alarmed but seemed to recover fairly quickly as soon as he realised it was Courfeyrac talking and anything he said was probably not to be taken too seriously.

Five minutes later and the friends were all tucking happily into their food as between them Combeferre and Courfeyrac explained the finer points of the latter's idea to the two cooks.

"So let me get this straight," Enjolras took a bite of pizza, "we're going to pretend that one of us gets murdered to try and work out which method of solving crimes is better? What about the victim? We do all have uni, you know. We can't just stay at home and pretend..."

Quickly Courfeyrac interrupted him. "It's ok, the victim doesn't have to hide at home or anything. Just for the purposes of the game they're dead. As in they can't get involved in the game in any way."

Bahorel was chewing his chips thoughtfully. "You know, if I'm the murderer, I think I'll become a mass murderer and kill everyone." Casually he helped himself to another beer.

"Thanks, mate, that's very reassuring," Feuilly punched him hard on the arm.

The law student grinned. "Not you, of course. Everyone else."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?", Enjolras was eyeing Bahorel slightly suspiciously.

"Of course it's a good idea. Don't be silly." Courfeyrac waved his pizza cheerfully. "It'll be fun."

"Are we actually allowed to commit multiple murders?", Éponine wanted to know, "If somebody saw something are we allowed to 'kill' them so they can't tell anybody or do we have to stick to just one victim?" She was warming to the idea of this detective game. It sounded like fun.

"Go ahead, kill as many people as you like," Courfeyrac said breezily, "I already have two victims in mind if I'm the murderer."

Cosette made shushing noises. "Don't tell us that! Now if there are two murders we'll know who did it!"

Feuilly stretched. "Or it could be someone trying to make you _think _it was Courfeyrac."

"Clever," Bahorel smirked, "I think I'll remember that."

Finishing off his last piece of pizza, Courfeyrac clambered to his feet and collected up a pen and Jehan's notepad. "Mind if I borrow this?", he asked, tearing a page out and beginning to scribble. "Ok, all these pieces of paper say witness. One says murderer. We'll pull them out of a hat..." He paused to cross the room and yanked Feuilly's scruffy, brown beanie off his head. "...and from then on the game has begun." With a dramatic flourish, he let the folded slips of paper flutter from his hand into the hat. "Who wants to pick first?"

There was a general stampede towards the hat, Bahorel leading the charge, Enjolras hanging back uncertainly. Only the pre-appointed detectives stayed sat in their seats watching the others. "It's like wolves at feeding time," Grantaire commented laughingly. Jehan sniggered and tried to peer at the scraps of paper in everyone's hands.

"Hey!", Courfeyrac exclaimed, "No cheating, Jehan!"

In the general scuffle the hat was dropped and several of the pieces of paper were scattered over the floor. Feuilly took the opportunity to retrieve his hat and jam it back on his head. Musichetta had somehow ended up with two notes and was busily trying to find out who didn't have one yet and Éponine was struggling to unfold hers. "How many times did you fold this?", she demanded of Courfeyrac, who threw her a charming grin.

Enjolras was reading his frowning slightly. "So now what do we do with them? Throw them away?"

Still sat in the window seat, Combeferre nodded.

"Has everyone read their note?", Courfeyrac asked in his best announcer's voice. He had scrambled up to stand on the sofa, much to Enjolras' disapproval and was waving his hands around for calm. "Then let the game begin!"

Of course, nothing happened. "Well that was an anticlimax," Bahorel muttered under his breath to Marius who snorted with laughter. Courfeyrac shot them a mock-outraged look.

Jehan had curled himself into a little ball on one of the armchairs. Now, he stretched and got to his feet. "Does anyone fancy playing on the Wii while we wait for this murder?", he suggested, "I really fancy beating you all at Just Dance."

In the rush for the Wii remotes the game was temporarily forgotten.


End file.
